


What I'd do for love

by Casstea



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Daring rescue, Established Relationship, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 19:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5140142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casstea/pseuds/Casstea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love was a strange thing. People would go to such lengths to try and find it, hidden in the shadows of relationships that were never quite meant to be.</p><p>And when they found it? When they managed to find the miracle that had once been nothing more than a fairytale? Well then they would walk through hell itself to ensure that the one they loved came to no harm.</p><p>James Bond was no different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What I'd do for love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vix_spes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/gifts).



> Creator: Casstea (movingpaintedpictures)
> 
> Recipient: vix_spes
> 
> Prompt: Historical AU where Bond is a lord/knight and Q is one of his advisors
> 
> \+ Q designs war machines like trebuchets and mangonels
> 
> \+ Q also experiments with herbs and Bond had to rescue him from people who wanted to imprison/kill him for witchcraft
> 
> \+ Alec and Tanner are both knights as well
> 
> Warnings: Violence (medieval swords, fighting, nothing beyond a 12 movie) mention of decaying poisons
> 
> A/N: Thank you to the very lovely vix_spes for such a fun prompt! I hope I did it justice, and that you enjoy it!  
> Special thanks to Kelli for reading an early version and assuring me it wasn’t rubbish. Also thanks to isthisrubble and Castillon for being such fab co-mods of Mi6-Café.

Q felt the blood trickle down the side of his lip. It had a bitter, metallic taste, one that lasted on the tongue.

He was pretty sure the blow to the head would leave a nasty concussion, although it was one he was pretty certain he would survive. He was more certain that being flung over the back of a horse with his hands tied behind his back wouldn’t have assisted in his recovery one bit.

He had just managed to fall into the rhythm of the horse’s jolting movements, when the huge beast suddenly stopped. Q lurched forward, his shoulder flying into the edge of the horses neck. His yelp was instinctive, the pain was sudden, and yet somewhere in the back of Q’s addled thoughts was the idea that whatever happened, he would _not_ be a coward.

“Put him on the ground,”

Q recognised the voice. It was Silva, the leader of the rebellion group that had been causing chaos and hell throughout the north.

Hard hands grabbed Q’s waist, dragging him off the horse. Q yelped in pain as his chin caught the edge of the saddle, before he collapsed onto the muddy ground in a heap.

“You haven’t said much, witch,” Silva said, kneeling down in the ground next to Q. Q could smell the heavy perfume on Silva’s clothing, which almost caused him to choke. Silva’s smile was mere inches from Q’s battered and bloodied face. Even with his unfocussed eyes, Q could just make out the dark grin that Silva wore, balanced by the grim delight which shone in his eyes.

“I’m not a witch,” Q spluttered, tasting blood, “I’m Lord Bond’s manservant, nothing more-”

“Quiet,” Silva hissed, spittle hitting Q’s face. Q fought the urge to wipe his face, even though his aching bones were telling him that he was too weak to move his arm to do such an action. Silva was known for being a bully, and Q was _not_ going to let the man get the better of him.

If Silva did, then Q was vulnerable. If Q was vulnerable, then he would almost certainly die.

“You are in the employ of James Bond,” Silva hissed, “he is a troubled man who is looking to send this country into disarray and ruin. You know this.”

Q didn’t reply. He _wanted_ to tell Silva that James had said exactly the same about the rebellion leader, having received orders from Queen Emma to quash the rebellion before it got too out of hand.

“No reply?” Silva hissed, grabbing Q’s chin and forcing Q to lock gazes with him.

“No,” Q replied. He might have been a mere manservant in title but he was _far_ smarter than Silva.

It was why James had got Q to design the new automatic crossbow after all.

“Disappointing,” Silva said, throwing Q’s head away from him and into the mud. Q groaned as the smack of the mud rung through his already battered body. However, once the jolt of pain had run through his bruised bones, the cold earth seemed to soothe his pains slightly as it sucked Q’s hair and  skull downwards into the earth.

 _Maybe it could just take me now,_ Q thought. Now _that_ would have been impressive if he could have commanded the Earth to swallow him hole.

However, sadly Q was no true witch. He was merely a man who knew herblore and had a large enough intellect to know how to apply it in devastating capacity.

“Put him on the horse,” Silva said, standing up from Q. Q glared at Silva, who swept his rich fur coat behind him as he strode back towards his horse.

The tough hands of Silva’s guards levered Q out of the earth. Q braced himself as he was thrown roughly across the back of the horse again, which danced in disgust at the weight of Q being thrown across its back.

“We move!” Silva ordered, his voice running out clearly across the group. From the noise, Q guessed that there could not be more than 20 in this group, most of whom were probably part of Silva’s personal guard team.

 _God help me,_ Q thought, as he shut his eyes, _I need a miracle to get out of here alive._

The horse begun to move once more, taking him away from the safety of James’ castle and towards the danger of Silva’s camp.

x-x-x

“I’m going to kill him,” James hissed, as he paced up and down the corridor. Alec rolled his eyes, leaning lazily on the cold stone wall. If James didn’t know the other knight better, James would have taken Alec’s posture to be of disinterest.

Alec cared, he cared a hell of a lot. He also knew when to shut up and let James vent.

“Do you mean Q or Silva?” Alec asked.

“I don’t know,” James growled, scuffing his boot on the floor. He fought the urge to punch the wall, to punch _something,_ but sadly the wall was too hard and Alec would probably break James’ arm if he tried to punch Alec.

“I mean,” James said, curling his hands into fists, “how did they even _manage_ to get at Q? Silva was reported to be a good week’s trek away, _and_ have set up camp.”

“Q went out of the town limits,” Alec said, “I got Vesper to confirm it for me.”

“Vesper?”

“Dark hair, maid to Eve,” Alec replied. James frowned, Alec wouldn’t trust the word of some random maid.

“Also heads up the finance side of the spy network,” Alec finished.

“Heads up?” James asked, confused, “I thought that was Eve’s job?”

“Well as Eve’s been busy at court with Queen Emma,” Alec said, “we had to find someone else we could trust.”

“You chose the maid?”

“Vesper is trustworthy,” Alec said, “she’s the one who raised the alarm.”

James swore under his breath. He did _not_ like this at all. Silva wasn’t supposed to be undermining James, and he _certainly_ wasn’t going to do it by kidnapping Q.

“We need to get this solved,” James said, “I need to get to Q before anything worse happens.”

“We do have his new crossbows,” Alec said, with a glint in his eyes, “I’ve always wanted to try those out.”

James frowned in concentration, glancing out of the castle window and down into the lower courtyard. Below, life was going on as normal. No one else knew that Q had been kidnapped in the early hours of that morning, Alec had brought the information straight to James himself.

“We need a small group,” James said, absently watching the small kitchen boy run across the courtyard below. James had been about that age when he had first met Q, who had been nothing more than the gardener’s wayward son.

“Armed to the teeth,” Alec said.

James smiled at his friend with a grim smile.

“Of course,” James said, “we’re taking Q alive, but the rest will pay for what they’ve done.”

“It’ll be over 4 to one in that case,” Alec smirked, “my kind of odds.”

“You gamble too much,” James said.

“And you drink too much,” Alec said, “come, if we leave at lunchtime no suspicion will be raised. I’ll get Vesper to drop our weapons outside the town so no one wonders why you’re starting a war.”

“I’m not starting a war,” James replied, “I’m saving Q’s life.”

“Q would hate to hear you say that,” Alec said, “however much he loves you.”

“He might be brilliant,” James smile softened at the thought of Q, “but he can’t fight for damn. It’s up to us to rescue him.”

x-x-x

James resisted the urge to ride his horse too hard, less he knacker the beast. He needed every advantage that they could get against Silva.

Silva had been known for pillaging and causing disturbances in the surrounding areas. He had heard enough from Felix Leiter, who lived in the Barony up to the North of London. They were distant friends, or close acquaintances, depending on how much information James needed about the workings of the world to the north of his small patch of land that he called home.

“Stop contemplating,” Alec remarked sharply, bringing his horse up next to James’, “you’ll waste your energy.”

“And what do you suggest in its place?” James asked.

“How well Q’s new crossbows are going to work against Silva’s camp,” Alec grinned a predatory smile, hefting the crossbow that he carried. It was an untested contraption that allowed for a block of crossbow bolts to be loaded underneath, as the mechanism pulled the bowstring back into position. It was all powered by a complex cranking system which would be able to hold the string back whilst the new bolt was loaded from underneath. The fire was rapid, although Q kept complaining he hadn’t fully managed to optimise the weapon _just yet._

Alec, however, wasn’t too fussed about the fact that the weapon wasn’t optimised. He was strapped up with a good three containers of reloading arrows, the ones that Q had engineered to be lighter to carry yet just a deadly to fire, and was itching to fire the weapon on anything that moved. James wasn’t sure if Alec would shoot at a passing rabbit just to give the weapon a go.

James shook his head. Alec was a good friend, and most importantly loyal, and that was hard to come by these days. He found trust hard, and it was harder to trust in times like these.

Which was why he needed to save Q, because if trust was hard to come by these days, then love was even harder.

For something like love, James was willing to destroy all of Silva’s camp to ensure Q survived.

They continued their route through the quiet fields that led out of James’ direct control. They were entering Alec’s land now, and whilst Alec was sworn to James, it meant that Alec knew this land better than anyone.

Alec had insisted they had left under the ruse of an afternoon hunting mission. It would give them enough time to catch up with Silva’s camp, as they could simply pretend James had frivolously spent days hunting some rare type of stag in the woods.

Sometimes being known as a person who played hard wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

“Once we reach that treeline,” Alec said, pointing up ahead, “then we’re half a day away from where Vesper’s sources have told me Silva’s camp is. It’s spread out, but we can surround it and then punch in from all sides.”

“Q cannot be harmed,” James said. He guessed the reason Silva had taken Q was a combination of bait and safety.

Bait to draw James and his men in, safety because he could hold a knife up to Q’s throat and that would be enough to stop James in his tracks.

“That’s why you’re going on the suicidal rescue mission to save Q,” Alec said, bringing his horse closer to James and nudging him with his elbow, “then I can take the rest of your ragtag group of men and circle from two sides to squeeze Silva out of hiding.”

James glanced over at the men and women following behind them. They were some of James’ closest and loyal friends, known as the 00 section to themselves as a result of a drunken evening where everyone had decided to number themselves because it sounded _cool._

James had been given the number _007._ He had no idea why it was relevant, but if it kept his elite unit together then he wasn’t to complain. After all, the fact that he had both men and women included in the unit was enough to cause eyebrows to raise, let alone if it got out that they had started giving themselves codenumbers as well.

They were the people who James could trust with his life, and they were the few people who knew of James’ true relationship with Q. When James had asked, every single one of them had offered their sword to get Q back alive.

“They’re not ragtag,” James said, “you’re one of them.”

“A ragtag bunch of people saving the day?” Alec smiled, “come on, James, that’s the stuff legends are made out of.”

“I don’t want to be a legend,” James said, “I want Q to survive.”

“He will,” Alec said, “shall we go kick arse?”

“We shall,” James replied, as he kicked his horse into a gallop, and headed straight for the treeline.

x-x-x

_When Q slept, he dreamt of bread._

_It was his guilty pleasure, baking. The cooks, who had once shooed him out of the kitchen in annoyance, were now his firm friends. He would bake various breads and sweet cakes, and in return for the space in the cramped kitchens he would offer conversation and titbits of gossip that every human lived by._

_It was in the kitchen that he had learnt about the local herblore, which had developed upon his smattering of knowledge that he had gained as a child from his mother. It was the kitchen where he was able to ask for quiet favours for bits of equipment that had allowed him to revolutionise James’ armoury._

_The smell of the bread in his dream softened the thumping ache that still managed to creep into the slumbered parts of his mind. He knew, somewhere, that his body was battered and broken. He knew from the sharp intake of breath that at least one rib was broken, and there was a dull ringing in his mind that told him his head was throbbing up there in the waking world._

_However, here in the dream, those pains were long forgotten things. Here, in the dream, Q was able to knead bread with the quiet contemplation that one got when they were doing something that they enjoyed. It was a simple pleasure, and a simple task, but it was one that freed up parts of Q’s mind that allowed him to think about how to engineer the crossbow just so, especially with the automatic reloading development that Q had made._

_Yet like all peaceful things, time passed. Q could feel it even here in the dream, the dull slick of time passing over his skin and drawing away his life with it. It sucked away the depth of the dream, and soon Q found that the bread he kneaded had now turned as bloodied as his skin had been when he had fallen asleep._

_Q screamed, the only reaction he knew how._

_And with that, he awoke._

x-x-x

The bag around his head stifled his scream, making Q gag. It was in the early hours of the evening, although there was a hint of sunlight which pierced the loose weave of the cloth.

 _God help me,_ Q thought. He could feel the pain beginning to surge towards his waking mind now, as the numbness of sleep began to slip away. His head hurt, pounded even, making it difficult for his thoughts to arrange themselves in an orderly fashion.

Q tried to move his aching limbs, but the post he was tied too restricted any movement. The ground underneath him was damp, and his clothes were still wet from the rain that had fallen earlier in the night.

 _I will get free,_ Q thought. Somewhere in his subconscious, he knew his injuries would be bad if he had failed to wake up from the rainstorm which had past earlier.

“He’s awake,” a gruff voice said from Q’s left. Without warning, the bag was pulled roughly off his head, causing Q to yelp in pain.

“We’re to take you to him as soon as you woke up,” the grizzled man said, smiling a broken smile of black teeth and scarred skin. Q tried to force the terror that rose up inside him down, dammit he might not be a knight be that didn’t mean he was a _coward._

“You’ll have to help me up I’m afraid,” Q replied, sounding calmer than he felt. His thoughts were starting to crystallise now, forming words and snappy arguments that he could use to glean as much information as he could about Silva’s camp whilst he was here.

It was amazing how people forgot intelligence when they thought they had power over you. Q knew this from his childhood, and it was a skill that had led him to being one of the most revered and skilled weapons makers in the country.

“Get him up,” the grizzled man said, waving over two junior guards to do his bidding. These two seemed fresh, nothing more than young lads, all bone and no meat on them.

 _They probably think the same thing about me,_ Q thought. The two lads wrapped their arms under Q’s armpits and hefted him from the ground. One of them unsheathed a knife, which they used to cut Q’s bindings.

“Hold out your hands,” one of the lads said. Q managed to mask his surprise at the high pitch of the lad’s voice, noting the fear in the young lad’s eyes as he held out another piece of rope with which to bind Q’s hands.

 _Lord, they’re recruiting young,_ Q thought.

“Of course,” Q said, holding out his hands. Q winced as he raised his arms, the skin still tender and bruised. The blood, once fresh and red from the cuts along his arm that he had suffered as  a result from riding a day upside down in a saddle, had now darkened to a thick brown crust.

The younger lad bound his hands, whilst the other looked on with a look of pride across his face. In the dim light, Q could just about make out the hint of stubble on the other lad’s cheek, barely breaking through his young skin. This one must be the elder of the one who was wrapping his hands in an expert knot, brothers who had joined the rebellion effort in the quest for glory.

“Follow me,” the grizzled man ordered, swinging on his foot as he stalked off into the shadows of the trees. Q followed as instructed, with the two lads following like puppies behind him. Both had their hands on the hilts of their oversized swords, as if trying to threaten Q.

 _You’re not the real threat,_ Q thought. No, that was Silva.

Silva was a threat to stability of the realm, and kidnapping Q was a sign that he was only getting bolder. James had been trying to quell the rebellion with the help of Alec for a good few months, and they had managed to stop Silva’s forces swelling up into a sizeable rebellion through a number of strategic battles.

Most of which were helped by Q’s technological developments. The catapults had been a good invention, first tried on Silva’s captured castle up in Lancaster. The battle has weakened Silva’s forces considerably, and James had hoped that it would spell the end for his rebellious ideas that Queen Emma, or M as James called her, was loosening her grip on the nation.

That was what Silva _said,_ however. The real reason was because Queen Emma had disgraced the knight about ten years previously, stripping him of his titles and rights. It had been a further kick in the teeth when Emma had given those same titles to _James,_ raising him up through the court ranks to become one of the senior advisors to the Queen herself.

However, James’ attack had only backed Silva into a corner. Now the disgraced knight was coming for blood, and the various political threats that had been made against James in the recent weeks had been signs that Silva was trying one last desperate attempt to overthrow James’ position.

Q marched through the mud, deep in his thoughts. Subconsciously, he noted various aspects about the grizzled man’s attire in front of him, the way the mail hadn’t been cared for or the old shape of the sheath that he carried his sword in. It all smacked of a force that had been hurriedly put together for the sole reason of one last ditch attack on James.

 _Yet they didn’t really need to do that did they?_ Q thought. He was still mentally kicking himself for sneaking out of the castle to try and get some more motherwort to help with Felicity, one of the maids whose pregnancy was causing her much distress. Even though he was James’ advisor, he liked to provide what support he could to the castle staff, even if his knowledge of herbs was more for the _poisoning_ variety.

Especially the specific kind of knowledge that M had called upon when she had first made moves against Silva. Even James didn’t know about that one, it had been very much hushed up.

After all, M couldn’t have been seen to have poisoned her own knights _before_ they had been officially disgraced by the crown.

The small group came to a clearing, which was dotted with small camp fires and shabby tents. Q suspected that his blindfold had been taken off because he was supposed to be terrified by the ramshackle rabble that Silva called his army.

Q decided to indulge his captors in their fantasy. Naturally, Q’s stomach was twisting inside him, but he wasn’t abjectly terrified.

 _Not yet,_ Q thought, _because I still know James is coming for me._

The grizzled guard led their little group through the campfires. Q tried not to show any expression as some of the soldiers, most of them barely older than the two who had untied him from his post mere minutes earlier.

The grizzled man stopped suddenly, causing Q to almost crash into the back of him. They hadn’t walked far, even though Q was certain that the grizzled man had taken him a winding route towards the camp just to try and confuse Q.

They stood outside one of the larger tents, this one less patch worked than the rest. Outside, two guards dressed in gleaming armour stood to attention, not bothering to turn and look at Q like the rest of the camp had.

“You will see Silva now,” the grizzled man said, not bothering to turn around and address Q in person. He stood to one side to leave the doorway free.

“Where is he exactly?” Q asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. No need to anger his captors with a few jibes.

“Enter,” Silva’s voice said from inside the tent.

“In there I guess,” Q said, taking a step forward. The two lads who had shadowed him all the way here didn’t follow Q as he stepped inside the tent.

The first word that leapt to Q’s mind was _opulence._ Silva sat admit the spoils of his war, glimmering gems and caskets of coins that he had spent most of the past months ransacking from various barons and castles.

“Like it?” Silva grinned, the smile of a predator. Q shrugged, gesturing with both his hands to the gems and coins.

“Seems like quite the haul,” he remarked, “what do you plan on doing with it? Buying a nice rug?”

Silva sneered at the remark.

“This will fund my army,” he said, waving his hand at the jewels, “obviously you know my reasons so they do not bear repeating.”

“To get revenge on Queen Emma,” Q shrugged, “everyone knows you sold her out to the French.”

“I did no such thing,” Silva hissed, “that is the lies.”

“Lies that were strong enough to get your lands stripped from you,” Q said, “now those lies have to be based in truth somewhere.”

Silva laughed, a mad laugh full of arrogance.

Then Silva grinned, a full toothed grin that spoke of evil and crazy thoughts.

It was then that Q saw the blackened gums behind Silva’s pale lips. There was only one plant that could make that symptom, not rotting the teeth but discolouring the skin inside the mouth as the poison took hold.

“You’re dying,” Q said, simply.

Silva’s grin grew wider now, showing Q the full extent of the problem. Of course, Silva wasn’t showing the outward signs of Gellwart poison, the make up was far too precise for that. However, no one could cover up the tell-tale purple gums however much colour they applied to Silva’s otherwise icy pale skin. Queen Emma had clearly been more thorough that just removing Silva’s titles and lands, she had also slowly trying to remove the man himself.

A job that Q wasn’t _responsible_ for exactly, but he had an instrumental part in the application of Gellwart through clothing dye and open wounds that had allowed M’s spies to do the rest of the damage.

“They said you were smart,” Silva rasped. Now he knew what to look for, Q noticed the rasp in Silva’s voice, the way his constants rumbled off the back of his throat as if his vocal chords were trembling with strain. They were, of course, one of the effects of the Gellwart poison was that it burnt away your throat, taking with it the strength of the muscles and a person’s ability to speak.

“I like to keep my image,” Q smiled confidently. Now he knew the real reason why Silva had kidnapped him, not because Q was going to be some martyr to be strung up but because Silva needed his help.

If Silva needed his help, then Q had leverage. Leverage meant time, and time meant that James could come and save his sorry arse from the mess he was in.

It also meant that Silva had no idea Q was the one responsible for this variety of Gellwart poisoning. It was a particular nasty variety, which allowed the subject to live for more than 10 years, with their body slowly decomposing and falling apart so subtly that the subject would never know what was happening until it was too late.

“You are going to cure me,” Silva said, picking up one of the rubies that was next to his makeshift throne and admiring it colour in the light of the lanterns that illuminated the tent.

“Gellwart has no cure,” Q said.

 _Not exactly true,_ Q thought, _but there is no hope for Silva._

Silva leapt up from his chair, crossing the tent to stand inches away from Q. Q was too shocked to move, and too terrified to speak once he saw the deathly glare in Silva’s eyes.

“You will cure me,” Silva hissed. From this distance, Q could smell the rotten stench that accompanied Silva’s breath, “or I will kill you.”

Silva stepped back, still holding Q’s gaze. Silva was taller than Q by about on inch, although with the fear hammering inside Q’s chest Silva seemed a good few feet taller. There was something imposing about the way a dying man commanded a room, however small the audience.

“Queen Emma will not be responsible for my death,” Silva rasped, his gravelly voice becoming more pronounced as his anger increased, “you will save me.”

Q nodded, mind whirring as he tried to seek a way out of his situation. Sure, he had leverage, but leverage against a dying man was almost useless. Silva was backed into a corner, fighting for his life, and if Q disappointed him -

 _Don’t think about it,_ Q thought, _James will have my back. I have to trust him on this._

“I’ll need a tent,” Q said, his voice sounding more certain than his nerves suggested, “a list of ingredients, a desk, and no disturbance.”

Silva sneered.

“Henry!” Silva shouted. The grizzled man who had led Q to Silva’s tent poked his scaly, scarred face through the tent coverings.

“Yes, M’Lord,” Henry replied.

“Take him to the medicine tent,” Silva spat, glaring at Q with hungry desperation, “and don’t let him leave until he has a cure for me.”

x-x-x

Q was working in the dark when he heard a rustle outside the tent.

He was tired, and even though he had secretly made a concoction that had lessened the pain in his head, his body still needed time to heal. Time which Q wasn’t able to give it due to the threat of impending death lest he fail to make a cure for Silva.

The problem was that he hadn’t lied when he had told Silva that there was no cure. The dose that Silva had been taking, for such a long time, no medicine would have a hope of curing him. Q had tried to make a bastardisation of a numbing antidote that he knew which could take away the symptoms for a few hours, but unless he came up with another plan sharpish then he would be discovered as a fraud and promptly executed.

Q paused in his cutting of the knarlroot that was lying on his chopping board. He strained to hear a noise in the quiet of the tent around him. There was the gentle muttering of the soldiers out by the door, and the whisper of the breeze against the tent, but nothing more.

_But I swear I could hear –_

Q stopped mid thought, as he heard the noise again. It was timed with the stamping of the guard’s feet, a gentle tugging of cloth with a very sharp knife.

 _James,_ Q sighed. He was safe, if James was coming for him. He would make it out of here alive.

Q continued to cut the knarlroot, carefully measuring out each measure to put into the bubbling pot he had on the desk. It had only taken him a few minutes to construct a temporary burner, like the one had back at the castle. It wasn’t as accurate, but then Q wasn’t too worried about the accuracy of his concoction anyway.

This one was a little stronger than the numbing one, and it had taken Q most of the night to try and get right. It was the way he mixed the ingredients and how he heated it that counted. If he threw too much of _each_ ingredient in it would simply make the thick concoction exponentially stronger.

Considering that this concoction, at its current strength, would cause the body to go into cardiac arrest within half an hour of its consumption, Q was intending this particular potion to kill.

 _There it is again,_ Q thought, as he heard the tear of the cloth become far more pronounced as one of the guards outside the door sneezed. Q dropped the knarlroot into the pot, carefully noting the temperature of the fire and pulling the small cooks pot off the heat for a few moments.

Suddenly, a head poked its way through a small gap in the fabric in the corner of the tent. James’ smile was broad, and Q couldn’t help but feel like everything would be _okay_ again.

“Having trouble?” James whispered. Q rolled his eyes, nodding in reply as James shuffled his shoulders through the gap, followed by the rest of his body.

James managed to contort himself in the shadow of the corner of the tent until he was crouched, knife held out in his hand ready for an attacker to come through the door. His face had been darkened by the mud, and his clothing was tight fitting and as black as the night sky.

Q raised his eyebrow, as he continued to stir his concoction.

_You here to save me?_

“Alec will make the diversion,” James whispered, so quiet that it barely registered above the muttering of the guards outside. If Q hadn’t seen James in front of him, he would have thought the sound was nothing more than the result of his overtaxed and tired mind.

Q cocked his head to one side as he pulled the final ingredient to his concoction, the ground seed of the Letra flower towards him.

_When are we leaving?_

“Give Alec five minutes,” James whispered, “he’s still getting in position-”

Silva walked in.

The change in James was instant. He immediately froze, pushing himself against the wall of the tent, shutting his eyes so the whites of his eyes did not give him away.

“Finished?” Silva growled at Q. Q blinked, hands scrabbling for something to fiddle with in his panic.

“Nearly,” Q said, as Silva walked around the small table. Q tensed as Silva’s hand drifted across his carefully organised desk, brushing over plants that could kill through touch alone.

Silva knew this, after all his men had brought the materials to Q. Silva knew _exactly_ how dangerous he was being by plucking a leaf from the viola stem and rubbing the poisonous flower between his fingers.

“I have heard a rumour,” Silva said, his voice breaking in the back of his throat were his vocal chords were unable to push all the air out his lungs. Silva’s black gums shone against the light of Q’s small brazier, teeth as white as a shark.

“A rumour?” Q asked.

“James Bond is coming towards our camp,” Silva remarked, as he walked the full length around the table and stood mere inches from Q. Q froze, not wanting to look to where James was hiding in the corner of the tent, right behind were Silva was standing.

“Yes?” Q asked, trying to keep his voice dry and uninterested, “that is what happens when you kidnap his manservant.

“But who would care?” Silva said, “who would care about _you?”_

Q swallowed, looking down at the brazier with an intense gaze. Silva was now getting into dangerous territory, insinuating that he _knew._

Nobody knew of James and Q’s true relationship, and the 00’s, as they had called themselves, were intend on ensuring that it stayed that way. James was already sailing close to the wind by recruiting women into his elite inner counsel, if they knew of his relationship with Q.

 _Everything would be over,_ Q thought to himself.

“Unless,” Silva breathed the word into Q’s ear, suggesting far more knowledge than the two syllables suggested, “unless, of course, there is _more.”_

The sound of air moving was Q’s only hint that James had moved. Silva gasped in shock, as James slid up from his crouch and placed a knife at the back of the man’s throat.

“Stop there,” James growled. It was a murderous growl, the kind that suggested James was in that place in his mind where no human could stay for long, less he become mad.

“A daring rescue?” Silva barked a laugh, “oh how sweet.”

“I will kill you,” James hissed.

“You will never leave here alive,” Silva said, his voice becoming louder as if he was giving an order to the guards outside, “you will die when I deem your life to be end.”

That was the signal, Q assumed, as the guards from outside burst into the tent. In moments, Q found his head smashed into the table, missing his knifes and brazier by mere inches, whilst his hands were bound. James didn’t even put up a fight as another of Silva’s cronies took his knife from him, before binding his hands as well.

“Take them outside,” Silva said. Q felt a heavy hand grab his shoulder, as he was forced standing and towards the door of the tent.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the remains of his concoction drip across the table and down onto the rugs on the floor of the tent.

x-x-x

Q and James knelt on the ground in the middle of Silva’s ragtag group that he liked to consider an army. James was grinning, his blue eyes shining from admit the mud that covered his face. Silva stood in front of them, addressing his men below like an actor delivering a final line from a play. It would be dramatic, Q thought, if he didn’t think that he was going to die soon.

“We’re screwed,” Q muttered, “you have a plan?”

Before James could reply, Silva began to speak.

“Now what we have here,” he sneered, turning to grin at James and Q, “is an example of the wretched people who try to govern us. Queen Emma is reliant on such people to fight for her, to keep her lands supposedly _safe_ and _peaceful._ Yet we all know how much wealth _James Bond_ has in his Skyfall Castle, and how little of it is given to the people.”

The surrounding men cheered, which made James almost giggle with laughter. Q, however, was too terrified to laugh. After all, James could protect himself in a fight but Q’s ability lay in making technology and potions. Since he had neither to defend himself he pretty much had a target written on his back.

“You really are trying aren’t you, Silva?” James chortled, shaking his head. Q glanced over at James, who was looking perfectly relaxed considering his arms were bound behind his back and he was kneeling on the floor.

It was like they were getting ready for execution.

“Be quiet,” Silva hissed over his shoulder.

“What are you going to do?” James said, “gag me too? I didn’t realise you liked me in that way.”

Silva turned around, face darkening. He nodded towards one of the guards who stood to the side. They unsheathed a knife from their belt instantly, and took a step towards were James was kneeling.

“Let me help you with that sharp tongue,” Silva said, “by cutting it out of your mouth.”

The guard smiled, taking another step towards James. Q looked frantically towards James, who seemed completely undeterred by the fact that Silva intended on having his tongue cut out.

Suddenly, from nowhere, a crossbow bolt took the guard square in the chest. He staggered backwards, knife falling from his hands, with a look of disbelief on his face.

Another bolt zipped out from the treeline, taking down the guard who had been standing on Q’s side. Men bolted to their feet, swords unsheathing, as they looked around to try and find the source of the bolts.

Then, Alec stood out of the treeline, hefting one of Q’s automatic reloading crossbows.

“This is fucking fantastic,” he said, with a huge grin on his face, “can you make me another one Q?”

All hell broke loose.

Crossbow blots flew through the air from the treeline, as the 00s fired volley after volley on Q’s automatic reloading crossbows. Q threw himself to the ground out of sheer preservation, body shaking with every _crack_ of the crossbow string.

The 00s begun to appear from the trees, yelling loudly as they cut through the surprised camp with their crossbows. Clearly Silva hadn’t warned his men of James’ approach, probably because he didn’t want to ruin what little morale he managed to dig from the depths of their desperate souls.

Q looked towards where James had been kneeling, but the knight was already standing tall and trying to fight Silva with his hands behind his back. Even then, he was still able to hold his own against Silva, who was trying to slash him apart with a small belt knife.

“Having fun?” Alec’s voice said, as his feet appeared next to Q’s face. A knife slid through the ropes, and suddenly Q’s hands were free.

He scrambled to his feet, taking the proffered crossbow from Alec.

“In case you need to-”

Alec stopped mid-sentence, drawing his sword and falling into a fighting stance. Q turned to look where Alec was staring, hands folding easily around the crossbow. He had tested these machines for so long down in the armoury that they were almost like an extension to his body now.

Silva stood in the centre of his dying men, with a knife to James’ throat. The other 00s had their swords and crossbows raised, all of their eyes trained on Silva.

He was the last man alive. The 00s were renowned for being ruthlessly efficient at executing death.

Silva’s face was cut and bruised, and his eyes were wild and frantic. James looked stoic, as if he didn’t care as to the knife at his throat.

“You are all going to fail,” Silva spat, blood flying from his broken mouth, “after all if I die, he dies.”

James grinned, his eyes never leaving Q’s.

“How do you know that?” Alec growled.

Silva grinned, pushing the knife further into James’ skin. A small trail of blood began to leak down the side of James’ throat. Q’s breath caught in his throat, fingers tightening around the crossbow as if the machine would alleviate the panic that was beginning to build within.

“Your weapons,” Silva said, “they don’t work. After all, you’d never even tested them before I gave you reason to. You can’t be sure you’d hit me. Your precious _James Bond,_ might die.”

Alec shot a glance at Q.

 _There is a spy in the castle,_ the look said. Someone knew about Q’s testing methods.

 _A problem for another time,_ Q thought.

Q levelled the crossbow at Silva’s head. Silva tried to pull James in front of him, but there was a small slither of skull that was within Q’s range.

Q looked down the sight, easily loading the crossbow. James’ blue eyes shone with trust.

With love.

Q snarled as he pulled the trigger. The mechanism turned within the weapon, cogs and gears releasing the bolt from the bow with considerable speed. It had been one of Q’s greatest moments, figuring out how to fire the bolt from a smaller bow with enough force to punch through armour.

The bolt flew true. Silva’s head snapped backwards as the bolt punched through the bone of his skull with ease.

James staggered forwards as the remains of Silva’s head hit the ground. He fell into the mud, breathing heavily, as his face begun to show the sheer relief that any human would feel when they realised their life was no longer going to end.

Q dashed over towards James, skidding in the mud to look him in the eye. Placing the crossbow gently on the ground less he set it off accidently, he pulled James into a hug.

 “I thought you were the one who was supposed to save my arse,” Q remarked, sliding his hand up the side of James’ face and pulling him into a rough kiss. Q heard a snicker, probably from Alec knowing him, but he didn’t care.

James tasted of blood and battles, of love and devotion. James pressed his lips against Q’s, as a desperate declaration of love.

James then broke the kiss, bloodied lips smiling broadly. Q thought that James’ eyes shone like a thousand stars. They were so desperately beautiful ,Q always thought he could lose himself forever within those eyes.

“Now you’re my knight in shining armour,” James chuckled, giving Q another kiss on the lips, “should I get you fitted out for some?”

Q rolled his eyes, unable to stop the smile crossing his face.

“I’d take you out of yours first,” Q replied, as he pulled James into another kiss.

It was a kiss of promise, and a kiss of trust. It was a verbalisation of the feeling that the two of them felt, the love that bound their souls together until the end of their days.

Q pulled away, breathing heavily. He rested his forehead against’ James’ so every sense was just filled with _James._

“I love you,” Q whispered into the silent space between them.

“I love you too,” James replied, looking up straight into Q’s eyes, “now let me take you home.”


End file.
